Timelines
by gottabefree
Summary: While Esposito stood in his shower, clean and wet from the warm water, Ryan was bleeding out in an alleyway, dirty and broken, hair pressed to his forehead from the cold, constant rain and blood leaking out of various wounds. Just another nameless victim to a violent mugging.
1. Chapter 1

He was in the shower when it happened. At the time, Esposito had no idea his partner was in danger. It would only be later, when the timeline was established, that Esposito would realize he had been washing his hair when his cell phone had vibrated, the words KEVIN RYAN flashing up on the screen.

While Esposito stood in his shower, clean and wet from the warm water, Ryan was bleeding out in an alleyway, dirty and broken, hair pressed to his forehead from the cold, constant rain and blood leaking out of various wounds. Just another nameless victim to a violent mugging.

No, Esposito would not know that his partner needed him. Later, he'd do the math and feel sick that as his partner's final thoughts before black were centered on him and contained mental apologies for dying and lacklustre hopes that Espo'd show up before the end, Esposito had been thinking about buying new shampoo. It was inexcusable. It was unforgettable. And it had happened.

He wouldn't hear his phone ring as Ryan desperately called, bloody fingers gripping it tightly. But memory is a funny thing, because later, in just a few hours, he'd convince himself he had heard it, and had just ignored it and that thought alone would cause his stomach to shiver and tumble and his fists to clench and a bitter, oh so bitter taste to spread through his brain and mouth.

But that was later, much later when the alley was a crime scene instead of what was fast becoming an early grave as the bright blue eyes slipped closed along with the fading evening light.

Because right now, Esposito was in the shower, washing his hair, while humming the catchy song from the Domino's advert subconsciously. Yesterday, while waiting for the game to start with Ryan, it'd come on TV and it had been stuck in his head ever since.

_...He turned down the dark alleyway. It was a shortcut he always used to cut off a block in the journey between the supermarket and his apartment. He was humming, a song from an advert he'd heard the day before, he didn't remember which one. No warning, nothing, just hands grabbing him and throwing him against the wall. His breath wheezed out. His shopping bags went flying and a can of peas rolled away, making the bid for freedom he couldn't make. Hands grabbed his hair and ground his face against the wall, whispering threats to guarantee his cooperation. It was fine, just a mugging, and even though his heart rate was beating about three times its normal rate, he knew the drill. This was New York, he'd been mugged before. Hand over your wallet, but shit they'd seen his badge, they knew he was a cop. And apparently they didn't like cops if the right hook was anything to go by..._

And reflecting on how his new shampoo smelt of peaches. This would not do. Javier Esposito was a manly man. He was masculine and muscular and had been in Special Forces. He carried a goddamn gun to work.

_...Rain was falling into his hair, forcing his usually gelled-up hair to lay flat on his forehead, except for where the cruel hand was fisting it. Strands hung in his eyes, dripping a perverse mixture water and blood into his tired eyes as his head hit the wall again and again and again..._

So what if the shampoo was on a half-price sale. So what it prevented hair loss -not that he was worried about that- and added a glossy shine and prevented dandruff –again, not needed- and all the other meaningless promises a shampoo makes but never really follows up on.

He could not have hair that smelt of peaches.

Oh God, Ryan would never let him hear the end of it. Thank God he had tomorrow off, so he could go buy new shampoo and scrub the scent of peaches from every strand of hair and replace it with a more manly scent. Like leather, that specific scent of a baseball glove. Smoke from a campfire, maybe. Or bacon. Esposito nodded to himself, water dripping off his chin, as he groped for the tap to switch the flow of water to warmer temperatures. Yes, he'd have to check for manly scented shampoo tomorrow.

Eyes closed, still humming away, Esposito groped about blindly for the soap, finally grabbing the slippery bar and soaped down his body cleaning away the grime from a day of chasing up leads. He and Ryan had had to do some dumpster diving (the absolute _worst _thing ever about being a cop) behind a restaurant (the absolute _worst_ place to go dumpster diving) and consequently, he smelt bad. Very bad.

_...Kicks were raining down on him and he'd curled into a ball on the trash-covered ground to protect his face and chest, a trick he'd learnt in Catholic school, but it had never been this bad at Catholic school. Pain radiated through his body, and he was pretty sure his left hand had been crushed into the pavement, he couldn't move it at all. They'd kicked every inch of him and were still going strong and oh shit, that was a hard one. He heard a crack in his side. Felt something move in his rib cage. Another rib gone then..._

There was a particularly bad streak along his stomach, where his shirt had risen up when he'd leant over and dug deep, his stomach pressed along the filthy edge of the dumpster. That was before he'd had to jump in of course. He remembered Ryan's bright-eyed grin as he'd casually leaned back against the wall and listened to Esposito's range of protests and "Oh God, what even _is _that?"s and "Well at least if I'm sick, I won't need a trash can 'cause I'm STANDING in one!"s, occasionally making snide comments about how Castle was rubbing off on Espo and pointing out bags –the dirtiest, smelliest ones which had whole colonies of flies and dozens of new species of bacteria swarming on them- which looked particularly suspicious.

Lucky bastard hadn't had to jump in because he was allergic to certain sea foods (damn those shellfish) and who knew what kind of stuff was in there. "You never know what the local Italian restaurants could be serving nowadays," he'd stated smirking while handing a glaring Esposito latex gloves.

_...The kicks had stopped, so he opened his eyes to see why. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, there was a knife. A proper fucking knife at least six inches long. They were gonna kill him, oh god he was gonna die. The blade was brought closer and all he could focus on was the silver blade that would bring unbearable pain and the silver grin that promised unbearable pain accompanying it. FUCK, it was in him it was in his stomach, they'd stabbed him, oh holy shit, Espo please please help, oh God he'd never felt pain like this before. A garbled scream escaped him before he could stop it, It was white hot and he almost vomited as he felt the blade move inside his flesh, twisting in a circle and oh FUCK that hurt and then it was being taken out, bloody and shiny. He tried to cover the wound with his hands, stop his inside from leaking out like he'd been taught but his weak hands were batted away by his attacker and the knife was heading back towards his stomach because of course it wasn't over and this time he didn't even have the strength to scream..._

Whistling the Friends theme tune (because everyone loves Friends), Esposito stepped out of the shower and tied a towel around his waist and headed to his bedroom to get dressed. Chucking on some baggy gray sweatpants and a ratty batman t-shirt, he paused to remember how Castle had seen Esposito the t-shirt and had then bought Ryan a superman one for Christmas so they could "fight crime together". Ryan, true to his dorky self, was thrilled. Castle had been delighted at his reaction. Espo had pointed out that Ryan should've had the Robin one 'cause he was the sidekick. Banter ensued. Beckett rolled her eyes at the whole scene. Ah, happy memories.

_...They'd gone now, left. Spat in his face and with a final kick to his jaw that caused his head to snap back into the wall, they'd left him for dead, sneering and jeering into the distance. He was alone, but that wasn't a good thing because oh god, there was so much blood and where was his phone? Damn it, it was out of reach, he'd have to move. God, it was so far, but he had to call Espo, he needed help and Espo could help him 'cause Espo always had his back..._

Esposito grabbed a beer and flopped onto the couch, remote in one hand and beer in the other. As the football started, he noticed his cell phone flashing.

_...By some miracle he'd made it to the phone. It had taken at least ten minutes and he was sweating and swearing, as shaking fingers finally clutched what could potentially save his life. His bloody fingers were sliding over the keys as he tried to call someone, anyone, but preferably Espo. Espo always picked up. Squinting at the screen to check he had his partner's name highlighted –he had to squint, his vision now blurry, a consequence of the blood loss- he pressed CALL. It rang and rang and rang and he felt himself fading away from reality, the noise of a phone ringing becoming more and more distant until he couldn't tell the difference between the ringing and Espo's voice and the answering machine and then his hand was limp and the phone dropped and hung up and his eyes slid closed and all was silent in the dark alley, the only light coming from the screen of the phone, faintly illuminating the dying man. And even that small light would be black in a minute..._

"A missed call?" he wondered. "Why would Ryan call me now?" Frowning, he called back. No answer other than the Irishman's cheery voice telling him to leave a message 'and I'll get back to you as soon as possible'. "Dude you called first and I'm the one leaving a message?"

Chucking his phone to the side, Espo slouched into the couch and got sucked into the drama of the game, unaware that his partner had not, and never will, hear his message.

_...A faint ringing noise. And then silence..._

* * *

**And there we have it, guys. This'll be a multi-chapter story, probably about 10 altogether. Of course, it's more Ryan-whumping. I've written six chapters already, I think I'll update it once a week though, give me time to finish it (slow writer, sorry. I've been working on this since November would you believe). I'm super excited about this, it being my first proper multi chapter story. **

**Tell me what you guys think (ie REVIEW. I thrive on reviews)! Until next time! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

_...He was not aware that his hand was being lifted and tentatively felt for a pulse. He was so deep in a world of whirling grays and silver that he never even knew he had been found, giving him a chance to live, a small sliver of hope forming that he'd make it that forced his body to keep fighting the deeper irreversible darkness. He never heard the whispered curse from Gates, the one declaration of emotion she allowed to be released when she saw him..._

It was morning. In fact, this was the definition of morning, that time at five am when the birds are chirping and the sun is rising and the only people up are the trash collectors and the newspaper deliverers. And Esposito. Because apparently murderers are up in the morning too.

"Esposito," he all but growled into the phone.

"There's a crime scene. Mugging gone wrong." It was Gates. He'd recognize those clipped tones anywhere.

_...His failing body was being lifted into the ambulance, paramedics scurrying about and yelling stats in a language incomprehensible to all but themselves. Fellow cops, some he knew well enough to have gone out for a pint with after work or to slap on the back in the locker room, looked on gravely and silently begged for a miracle. Gates' eyes followed the parade of life-saving medics as they piled into the ambulance as she held the phone in her ear much too hard..._

There was silence as Esposito's sleep-cluttered brain tried and failed to understand why a homicide detective should be concerned with a mugging.

"You'll want to see this one," she continued, correctly reading Esposito's unspoken _why are you telling me this_. At first those words didn't register, but when they did, he felt chills. They were standard issue words, ones spoken which meant the next case would be a tough one and emotionally exhausting, usually swallowed down with rounds of beers at The Old Haunt with the whole team to remove the bitter taste. It meant someone on the team would have a personal interest in this case, and that was never good when you worked in Homicide.

"I'll be there in 20. Where?" He asked as he slithered out of bed and began rummaging for some clean clothes. Where were all his socks anyway?

But Gates' next words, the address of the scene, froze him. His breath hitched and then stopped as a whispered curse left his mouth. That was only a few blocks from Ryan's apartment.

That was only a few blocks from _Ryan's _apartment.

Kevin Ryan. His partner. His best friend. His brother. This wasn't happening.

The words flashed around his mind and still he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. Ryan couldn't be- no. No, no, don't even go there. That was the absolute worst case scenario.

In fact, this whole nightmare, if his suspicions were correct, was the absolute worst case scenario because it was _Ryan._

_...Her eyes closed briefly as she heard the stuttered gasp through the phone. She should be able to tell him that it was Ryan who'd been hurt, that Ryan was alive but she couldn't get the words out because she didn't want to be the one that broke the news. The ambulance doors were closing now, hiding him from view and now it was speeding off, flying down the road like a wayward firework and she found herself ending the call before Esposito asked a direct question and she'd be forced to become the bad guy..._

Before he could ask anything, she'd hung up. _Deep breaths, Espo_ he reminded himself. Ryan had to be okay, it was a coincidence. He was a trained police officer; he knew how to handle himself. Hell, he took down suspects twice his size before. He _had _to be okay. And Gates would've told him if it was to do with Ryan, right?

He'd almost convinced himself that Ryan was fine, Ryan was alive, Ryan was grumpy for being called out this early because Ryan would be at the crime scene because _nothing had happened to him_.

He still got dressed at triple the speed he usually did and was out the door within five minutes of Gates' call, mind racing and eyes wide with panic, socks be damned.

* * *

Gates' looked down at her cell phone. This was not shaping up to a good week. Having to tell two of her best detectives that their teammate, another of her best detectives, was a victim albeit indirectly- that was not why she'd taken this job.

_...He was driving recklessly, he knew that, but oh god, he had to get there, had to find out if it was Ryan, and he knew his breaths were coming out shakily and much too quick and it sounded like he was on the verge of another panic attack. His hands were sticky on the wheel, and turning his knuckles a sickly white with the effort of crushing it but the wheel remained unchanged and even with his sirens on he wasn't fast enough, he couldn't get there in time because he was too late, Ryan was already hurt..._

And that was why Iron Gates –the tough, by-the-book, emotionless Captain of the 12th precinct- had not been able to strictly tell them who the victim was or even what the crime had been, not that she'd needed to. They'd known immediately. Sentimentality had got in the way, she'd seen the antics the Homicide detectives got up too over the past three years and she cared about all of them, even Castle grudgingly, not only as their boss but in a slight maternal way. Of course she never showed this, and kept it hidden underneath her iron facade. And even buried, the whole of the 12th knew that Gates was very protective of her people.

No one hurt her people.

Anyone looking at Captain Gates would know she was furious that someone had. Her face had turned dangerously stony as she had watched the limp body being loaded into the ambulance, paramedics swarming around Ryan like vultures around a corpse. He'd looked terrible, unrecognizable beneath the grime and the bruises and the blood. _The blood_.

_...He was crashing towards the waves, tumbling deeper and deeper and his heart was getting slower and slower until it finally stopped and he wouldn't know about the shouts from just above because you don't hear sound underwater but they were there and then lightning was fizzing through his veins and his body was jerking and he was back, thank god he was back, but he didn't even know he had been gone..._

In fact, he had been unrecognizable to the responding officers. It was only the finding of his badge further down the alley that had alerted them to the fact that the bloody mess before them was in fact the remains of an NYPD detective. She remembered how her heart had stuttered when she got the call. And how it had shattered when they cleaned off the red from the gold and read out the number 42334, a quick search through the database revealed that the pile of meat lying in the alley, barely breathing was in fact the bright-eyed, eager Kevin Ryan. One half of the mischievous Ryan-and-Espo. One quarter of the best Homicide team in New York.

Kevin Ryan's NYPD badge, an officer's definition of pride, had been thrown in a puddle of vomit. That in itself was a grave offence in her eyes. His gun had been missing, taken along with his wallet no doubt. Gates knew what had happened last time Ryan's gun had been stolen and about the shades of guilt that had darkened him for days, unable to be breached by anyone except Esposito. Although she did not want Ryan to go through all that again, Gates was just relieved that the brutes who did this had not decided to kill Ryan with his own weapon.

And now the ambulance had driven off, rushing her detective to the hospital while two more rushed to get here. Gates was left standing there hoping to God that Ryan would live and glaring at the stained alley that would no doubt haunt quite a few nightmares for a while.

* * *

** I apologize to anyone who thought Ryan had died, I realized that some phrases made it sound like he'd died because when I originally wrote Chapter 1, I had planned to make this a oneshot in which Ryan did die. I've changed it now, to avoid confusion about Ryan being resurrected from the dead and whatnot.**

**Anyways, there's chapter 2. I know it's short, but I think it's needed. I wanted to look into Gates character a bit more; I think she's brilliant and more complex than we know. I'll post Chapter 3 soon, since this is much shorter. Chapter 3's a biggie :D **

**And thank you to everyone who's read, followed, favorited, reviewed. I was not expecting such a reaction and you have no idea how much it means to me, I checked my emails the day after posting this and almost cried I was so surprised! You guys made my day, people kept asking me why I was so happy!**

**Tell me what you guys think (I genuinely love hearing) and I'll see you again on Thursday!**


	3. Chapter 3

When Esposito arrived, his eyes were wild and he had the desperate air of a cornered wild animal. He spotted Beckett immediately.

Beckett was standing at the mouth of the alley. Her face was grim, lips set in a tight line, giving nothing away other than there was something terribly, terribly wrong.

"What happened? Is it Ryan?"

_...Tyres rumbling, sirens blazing, curious citizens moving out of the way wondering what happened to the poor bastard in the ambulance before their thoughts drifted on to other more significant things as the sirens faded from memory at the same rate they faded from sight. Shouts surrounded him as the battle to stay alive was fought for him because he was almost gone and had no recollection of deciding to stay..._

Beckett's eyes closed and when she reopened them two seconds later, the look of utter anguish and helplessness and disbelief in her eyes confirmed Esposito's worst fears.

"Oh God, he's not... I mean he can't be _dead_?" Esposito's voice was weak and cracked on the last word as images of lifeless blue eyes and descending coffins filled his mind.

"No! No, no, he's still alive by some miracle. He's lost a lot of blood though and-"

"Where is he? I need to see him, Beckett!" Esposito all but yelled as he spun around, taking in the scene but only searching for one thing. "Beckett, where is he?"

_...Gears were still being shifted into park when the back doors of the ambulance were thrown open and the stretcher wheeled out, one wheel squeaking more than the others. Swear words and sweat and prayers accompanied the procession as he was led to surgery, blissfully unaware..._

"He's on the way to the hospital. But, it's not good. They think he's been lying here since last night, he could still die. Oh God... Javi, look at me, maybe you shouldn't be here," Beckett said soothingly, forcing Esposito to make eye contact and trying to calm him down. She was worried; she'd never seen him look so shaken. Usually, he was stoic and in control but right now, as he threaded his hands through his hair and took in their latest crime scene, he looked completely lost. And her own worry for Ryan wasn't helping as it was manifesting itself by forcing her words to become pessimistic and sprawl out of her mouth as quickly as she could think them.

"What the fuck happened to him, Beckett? How did this happen? He walks through here all the time! How bad is he? Let me see where the crime sc- where you found him," Esposito demanded, wincing at his word choice. Even if it technically was a crime scene, the idea of Ryan having his own crime scene was still incomprehensible.

She sighed and led him to the middle of the alley. Lanie wasn't there, thank god. If the coroners had been called to the crime scene, it would not have been good news for Ryan.

"Esposito, this is Detective Lees. He will be leading the investigation." Beckett's voice was steely. Esposito knew her well enough to know she had wanted this case, and with good reason. But Gates would not let a case where the team had personal motivation be dealt by said team. That, and it wasn't technically a homicide.

Detective Eric Lees was a fleshy man with wispy blonde hair, a large nose and a mouth that belonged on a fish. He was not known for his sensitivity.

Esposito had worked with him before. Ryan and Castle had taken bets on how long he'd last without punching Lees. Ryan had been spot on: 8 hours in and he'd snapped when Lees had smirked out a story about prostitutes and runaways. Castle had gone for 2 hours and subsequently lost. "Hey man, don't bet against my partner. He knows me like he knows Irish dancing!" Esposito had said as he'd slapped Castle on the back. Castle turned to Ryan, looking very interested. "I don't know Irish dancing," Ryan answered Castle's next question automatically as he took the $20 from Castle, grinning. "That's not what you told me completely drunk at your sister's wedding!" Esposito had insisted, "Hell, you even showed me!" Ryan had spluttered, turned red and denied the whole affair in a panicked tone the whole day, much to Castle's delight.

The memory made Esposito's heart burn. He swallowed down bile as he looked at the dirty alleyway where Ryan had been lying just hours earlier, the exact area highlighted in blood. He knew this area, he knew Ryan used it as a shortcut, he'd been down here with Ryan to pick up takeaway or beer too many times to count. It was safe and familiar.

"It looks like a mugging that went wrong. When the victim was found, his wallet and phone were missing, although we suspect the phone was taken later as we were alerted to the crime scene by a 911 call from his number. I'm guessing some kid found it, saw Ryan and called it in. Whatta ya know, kid will steal a dying man's possessions but still has enough of a conscience to save his life, eh?"

Lees paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for a laugh or a nod of agreement. Esposito looked murderous. Beckett's glare was cold as ice. With a small shrug, Lees continued his narration.

"Right, well anyway, he was returning from the supermarket, hence the groceries, when he was attacked from behind and thrown into the wall. From a visual inspection before he was taken to hospital, he had multiple stab founds to his torso and shoulder-" Esposito inhaled sharply. Not good, definitely not good. Those bastards were dead meat. "- His left wrist was broken, I'd guess they'd stamped on it, multiple broken ribs and deep bruising across most of his body. He has a serious concussion, if you look here-" Lees crouched down and pointed at a dark smear of red on the wall "-you can see where they smacked his head into the wall repeatedly. And down here" –Another red smear, fainter this time and about two inches from the ground- "is where his head hit the wall again, but he'd fallen this time, I'd say it was a result of a kick to the head. Of course, once he's cleaned up a bit, we'll determine the number of attackers from the shoe prints from the bruises to his stomach, hopefully, depending on how badly bruised he is. Of course, we already have the DNA of one attacker from the spit on the victim's face."

Dead. They were all dead. He'd shoot them himself. No one spat on his partner and lived. No one fucking messed up his partner and died a painless death.

Straightening up, Lees faced Beckett and Esposito. "He also had several DNA samples under his nails, fought back pretty well, I'd say. Not well enough, though."

Beckett noticed the tension in Esposito's whole body and realized Lees would be punched if he wasn't careful.

"We'll also have to check for signs of sexual assault. Might not have been a mugging, maybe he just likes it rough."

He wasn't careful. Esposito's face connected with Lees' smug mouth, knocking his head backwards with an audible snap. Beckett herself wanted to punch the asshole, but they were at a crime scene and could damage evidence.

"Hey, woah, Esposito! Guys, stop!" yelled a police officer as several ran over to pull Esposito off of Lees and away from the gruesome residue left by the Irish detective.

"How dare you? How fucking dare you suggest that this crime was Ryan's fault?" she hissed, voice as cold as a glacier and her eyes pinning his under a fiery glare usually reserved for difficult suspects.

"Say that again and I will knock your teeth through your skull." Esposito's voice was low and screamed danger.

Lees realized he had dug a deep hole and launched himself down it headfirst with dynamite strapped to his chest and a timer of 10 seconds. Everyone knew Homicide was a tightknit family. Ryan and Espo spent most of their free time together, to the extent where rumors of roommates and couples floated through the precinct regularly. Everyone knew that Ryan and Espo had each other's back and slapping one while he was down would invoke the wrath of the other. Lees seemed to have just remembered these facts which were common knowledge in the 12th precinct. His eyes darted between them, rapidly and his tongue nervously licked his lips. "It was a joke, alright?"

"If you repeat this kind of bullshit ever again then I will personally inform your commanding officer of your inappropriate and completely unfound assumptions against your fellow officers of law and will see that your ass is degraded right back down to patrol permanently. And that's if you're lucky." Oh yes, Espo could recognize those clipped tones anywhere. And here was no exception. Gates had arrived and she looked furious.

Lees positively scurried back to the comfort of his car, muttering a mixture of apologies, assurances and promises of fast results.

Gates turned to Beckett. "As I told you, your team is off this case. I suggest you take a few days off, make sure Ryan's going to recover while we catch these bastards." It was a promise; Esposito knew she was guaranteeing that Ryan would get justice. The scumbags who did this would not walk the streets for a very long time. No one messed with Gates' cops. "He's at Trinity Hope Hospital, arrived a half hour ago and is undergoing surgery."

_...Careful, careful, careful incisions were made and deep, slow breaths surrounded him as the circle of doctors tried to find the source of internal bleeding which had shown up in CT scans. Low murmurs and frowns as they worked tirelessly, this was only the start of a long list of injuries and the chances were not in this man's favour. Ruptured spleen, one muttered as he spotted the oozing blood which was subtly different from the other bloody messes visible. Squeaks on the floor, feet moving and darting as each surgeon knew instinctively the course of treatment as his heart continued beating even as his insides were displayed to all..._

Esposito immediately left towards his car, focussed completely on his next mission: getting to Ryan. Traffic laws be damned, he'd get to that hospital ASAP. His partner needed him.

Gates watched him go and pursed her lips, but Beckett knew it wasn't out of anger, it was out of worry.

"Sir, I've got to make a call," Beckett said.

They both knew she wasn't asking for permission but Gates nodded anyway. "Castle?"

"I didn't have time to tell him; I was so panicked that I just forgot," she explained as she called him, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for him to pick up.

_...He was making pancakes, blueberry ones which seemed painfully ordinary to him but Alexis was visiting later and it was what she'd wanted. Although he was considering making smorelettes as well as a surprise, or maybe some smaffles. The phone rang, drilling into his culinary plans and he grabbed it, checking the caller ID. Beckett. With a grin he picked it up, forgetting his pancakes and brandishing a spatula as he answered..._

"Hey, Kate, please tell me we got a body. A really juicy one because I feel like my brain-"

"Castle, I need you to meet me at the Trinity Hope Hospital. You know where it is?"

Silence. A clatter as something metal hit the ground.

"Oh God, Kate please tell me you're alright. Wait of course you're alright you called me. What's happened? Oh God, it's someone we know isn't it? Please tell me you're unhurt, Kate! Say something! Who is it? "

She heard Martha in the background, asking if anything was wrong.

"Kate! Are you ok?"

He sounded panicked, on the verge of a freak out.

"I'm fine, Castle. It's not me," She choked out, the words thick and spongy as they battled through a lump in her throat. If she didn't tell him, the tears wouldn't fall and it wouldn't be real because Castle wasn't involved in this nightmare yet, he hadn't felt that utter fear yet.

..._Hearing those five words loosened his throat and although he felt guilty, he felt undeniably relieved. It wasn't Kate, but who was it? He could hear the chunks of emotion in her voice, clogging up her words and he knew it was bad, but who? What had happened? He made eye contact with Martha, as he stood in the kitchen waiting for a name to be spoken but he couldn't stop the streams of words that tumbled from his mouth in his panic, trying to wash away the reality..._

"Who is it? Is it Espo? Ryan? Lanie? Oh god, not Alexis..."

"It's Ryan, Castle. He's on his way to hospital. Trinity Hope. He was... He's been beaten up badly. I'm going there now, Espo's on his way already. They... He might not make it, Castle."

_...Ryan, no..._

Silence.

The sound of keys being grabbed, Martha demanding to know what's going on.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes."

* * *

**In this story, Jenny doesn't exist. It's not because I dislike her because I do love her, it's because I want to focus on the team's reactions and I don't feel I have a perfect enough grasp on her character to write her in and still do her justice. Also, I can't write romantic relationships to save my life and to bring one into my first proper story- I'll get an aneurysm. And then the wait for the next chapter will be a very long one.**

**Thanks so much for all the reviews, you have no idea how much they all mean to me. Actually, as most of you are writers as well, I'm sure you do. Please continue to tell me your thoughts. I'm not sure if the alternating POVs are confusing or clear enough, sometimes I do get too abstract with my writing. **

**Anyway, until next time and I hope you enjoyed :) **


	4. Chapter 4

Beckett parked and power-walked into the hospital, using that long intimidating gait she had when she was on the way to make an arrest or interrogate someone; the one that got her where she needed to be deceptively fast.

She couldn't remember much of the drive over there, just the desperate need to get to the hospital because one of her team was down.

_...He hated hospitals. Not only because they invariably meant bad news, but because it was the one place as a cop that he had no real authority. It didn't matter how many times he'd demanded for news on Ryan or informed them that Ryan was his partner or that he needed to see Ryan, they told him to please wait in the waiting room and a doctor would be along shortly with news on Mr. Ryan's condition. He would then snap that it was Detective Ryan, he was a cop and he needed to see his partner and now goddamnit, and they'd then tell him to please wait in the waiting room and a doctor would be along shortly with news on Detective Ryan's condition..._

The hospital reception was busy, bustling with doctors striding towards their patients and loved ones looking around fearfully. Patients were being whisked off to be examined or directed to other waiting rooms. Beckett headed straight to the receptionist, wasting no time. After all, Ryan might not have time to waste.

"Which room is Detective Kevin Ryan in?" she demanded in that special voice that made grown men stutter and hardened criminals give up information.

The receptionist –Rebecca, according to her nametag- to her credit did not look bothered and maintained her calming smile. She was clearly used to dealing with distressed and angry family members. "What relation are you to Detective Ryan?" she asked as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

"I'm his boss and co-worker," she replied.

"I see, well then please wait in the waiting room on the first floor. Detective Ryan's currently undergoing surgery. A doctor will come out and give you an update on Detective Ryan's condition when he's been moved into a room," Rebecca said, directing Beckett to the elevator and simultaneously waving the man behind her forward.

_Surgery._ Beckett had known his wounds were bad, but her head was reeling and hearing that word had scared her more than she'd like to think. Yes, she'd known the wounds were bad. Yes, she'd seen the ambulance driving off. Yes, she'd seen the bloodstains.

But this was the final proof that Kevin Ryan could die very soon. And that wasn't a possibility she ever wanted to believe.

_...As a cop, he was used to flashing his badge and barging into whichever location a homicide led him to. But in this damn hospital, he was in the same position as every other grieving and worried family. He was completely dependent on the doctors' skills on saving Ryan's life and he hated it, hated how he had no way to have his partner's back , hated how helpless and useless he was sitting in this goddamn chair. And most of all he hated that he had next to no information on how Ryan was doing, if he was alive still and where the hell he was..._

As soon as she entered the waiting room, she was scanning for Espo. She knew him and Ryan were brothers in every sense of the word, and that he must be going crazy from guilt and lack of activity.

It was big, spacious and definitely more than half-full. Beckett immediately zeroed in on Esposito, who was sitting right beside the doors to the ER, deep in thought if the heavy frown on his face was anything to go by.

But not so deep that when Beckett sat next to him, he didn't notice. "They haven't told me anything, other than he's still in surgery and that they lost him once in the ambulance."

He turned his dark eyes over to Beckett. "He _died._"

Beckett offered no words of consolation because they would all be lies. She dealt with facts, cold hard facts and the fact was they had no idea what was going on behind those doors and only a very vague idea of what had happened that night in the alley. Instead, she made a different promise, one that she would definitely keep. "Espo, we will catch those bastards that did this."

"They're going to hurt for what they did to my partner." Esposito's dark eyes promised that the thugs who did this would never walk again by the time he was done with them, if they were lucky.

That look made Beckett relieved that they were not working this case because she was almost certain Espo would lose his badge over this.

* * *

Castle arrived, with Martha trailing behind. He'd left the apartment so quickly after getting Beckett's phone call he'd barely been able to yell over his shoulder where he was going. That hadn't been good enough for Martha. She knew the 12th precinct detectives very well, seeing as Castle had unofficially worked with them for five years and had been adopted into their murder-solving family. When you work with death every day and the only thing standing between you and death is your partners, that's not something that can just be shut off outside the office.

She'd heard Castle's panicked responses. She'd seen his eyes widen in disbelief as his hand searched for his car keys distractedly while still pumping Kate for details. She'd felt the wave of ice hit her heart prompting it to contract ever faster. She'd known it was bad when he left with the stove on and the smouldering remains of a blueberry pancake still merrily burning away. She'd naturally followed Castle to his car (after turning off the stove first because losing the apartment to hungry flames was not something Castle should have to deal with when someone had been hurt), demanding to know _what the hell had happened _and _who had been hurt_. Castle had been in a state of shock, unable to form a sentence as his overactive imagination sped through increasingly gruesome scenarios. So all Martha had got was a choked out "_Ryan. It's Ryan, mother,_" about halfway to the hospital.

Beckett saw him immediately. He looked haggard, as if he'd been the one waiting in the hospital and dealing with the crime scene.

_..."Charging! And clear!"All hands were off his body as electricity sizzled through his veins and jolted his heart back into motion once again and it weakly tried to re-establish a rhythm that would maintain life and as soon as that happened, hands were once again trying to fix and heal him because goddamn it, they weren't going to lose this battle..._

"What happened?" he asked, all trace of his normal humor gone.

"Ryan was mugged last night and it turned violent, possibly because they knew he was a cop. No one found him until this morning," Beckett told Castle in a robotic voice. Castle turned around and swore softly, eyes watching the door to the ER for news of Ryan. Martha's eyes widened and gasped out an "oh my god."

Esposito had not reacted at all at Castle and Martha's entrance but his hands clenched at Beckett's final sentence. "He called me. Last night. He called me and I missed it."

Another reason to hate hospitals. All this waiting had given Esposito plenty of time to think and examine the timeline of the case, comparing it to his evening. And he'd put it together, it was simple enough. Ryan had been mugged at around 8.30 the previous night; he'd received a call from Ryan at around 8.30 the previous night. Ryan hadn't returned the call. Esposito had shrugged it off. Ryan was now in hospital.

There was silence as everyone looked at Espo and absorbed what he said.

"You couldn't've known-"

"He called me for help and I ignored him."

"That's not tru-"

"I called him back and he didn't pick up. I left a voicemail and completely _forgot_. Ryan always calls back! I should've known something was wrong." Esposito's usual voice got rougher as he spoke, anger at himself dying his words a deep red.

Castle looked at Beckett. But it was Martha who stepped in. "Javier, the other week Richard was telling me about the case with the plastic surgeon –and no Richard did not tell me the details, well not _all_ of them- and he told me about how you and Kevin went to go bring in the suspect. Now, if I'm not mistaken, the suspect ended up resisting arrest and pushed Kevin down the stairs. You immediately went to go help him. The suspect got away because you were checking Kevin was alright"

Esposito looked at Martha blankly, waiting to see where she was going. Ignoring Castle's questioning glance, Martha continued.

"You put Kevin's welfare before your job. And I know you'd put Kevin's welfare before your life. I don't know many police officers, or people for that matter, who'd do that. Now, that's just one example and I don't spend all day with you solving murders like Richard does, but I do know the dedication you two have to each other and not for one minute do I believe you ignored him. And not for one minute do I think Kevin would blame you."

Esposito gave a stiff nod. He didn't look convinced but Martha's words had eased his mind somewhat. He no longer looked ready to punch anyone, excluding Detective Lees of course. Espo was almost always ready to punch Detective Lees, especially when he had badmouthed his partner.

Martha, seeing that her job as overall mother had been fulfilled, smiled and placed her hand on Castle's shoulder, stating that she needed to call Alexis, not only to call off her visit but just because she'd want to know. She had grown up around the Irish detective and his Hispanic counterpart and both were extremely protective of her.

_...He'd lived through the surgery and the wounds were stitched up and sterilised and covered in bandages and he was being wheeled out and into another room, this time to assess his broken arm but he didn't know any of this was happening because he was metaphoric miles beneath reality and most of the alarm that had surrounded his figure had gone, it wasn't so urgent anymore although he was weak and he could still die but if he hadn't yet, why should he now?..._

Beckett placed her hand on Espo's knee and squeezed, providing comfort to the ex-Special Forces veteran. Castle sat down next to Beckett, leaning against her as he rubbed her shoulder. The touch was needed, grounding them and giving them the strength needed to hold it together.

Martha soon returned and sat next to Castle, fretting silently. That was how they all remained, sitting in their designated seats and positions in the crowded waiting room, one huddle of concerned family among many, all of which were praying and begging and wishing for a miracle, or even just news on their missing ones.

Doctor after doctor entered, calling out names and breaking news, leading the way to the recovery rooms or saying the standard issue "I'm sorry for your loss" as hearts shattered. The same words the Homicide detectives said daily and yet were oh-so-unprepared to have it said to them.

Nine hours passed.

The doors opened again and a doctor holding a clipboard emerged. "Family of Detective Kevin Ryan?"

* * *

**Bit of a cliffhanger, sorry. But don't worry, next Wednesday, guys!**

**Thank you so so SO much for all the reviews. I love every single person who's reviewed, favorited, followed or read this story because honestly, you have all inspired me to carry on and keep to my update times! I am a slow writer and this support is like petrol for my imagination's fuel tank. What a beautiful metaphor.. **

**Anyway, I have all the nooks and crannies of this sorted out now, I know where it's going and I just need to write it all down! So you know, more petrol, more updates, eh? **


	5. Chapter 5

Esposito's head shot up. "Yes? That's us."

The doctor headed over. Beckett's people-reading skills seemed to have evaporated and been carried away into the air conditioning during the nine and a half hour wait. Panic seized her throat as they all untangled themselves from the secure cluster they had become over time, only becoming briefly undone to get snacks and coffee at regular intervals but never leaving their view of the ER doors.

Esposito stepped forward, eyes almost manic as he stretched for news on his partner. "How is he? Is he alive?"

It physically hurt him to get that last word out. But saying that was so much better than saying the alternative.

"He's in critical condition, but yes he's alive."

_...He was still drifting through that wonderful space where words didn't exist and life wasn't a possibility because infinity was here instead. He didn't know that several people's blood now ran through his vein, or that only their generosity and the doctors who'd worked hard to save him and the thief with a conscience were the only reason he'd survived because by all accounts he shouldn't..._

A deep breath, more of a gasp of utter, complete _relief_ than anything else. A scream for oxygen because Ryan still needed oxygen too, and that knowledge allowed his bones to relax and his veins to release their clamp on his muscles.

"His wounds are rather severe, but if he survives, he will make a full recovery. The main problem we had was blood loss from the stab wounds. He did flatline twice, on the operating table and in the ambulance, but we managed to get him back. He was found almost ten hours from when the wounds were inflicted; it's a miracle he made it. The stab wound in the shoulder hit the bottom of his deltoid muscle, so he will need physiotherapy to ensure no permanent damage happens after he's recovered more. He'll also need physiotherapy for his left arm, several bones were shattered and he may not gain complete use of it, however it is very early to know for sure and he's young so that is extremely unlikely. He also had two stab wounds to his abdomen, one very close to his stomach and one damaging part of his spleen, a small section had to be removed but he was very lucky nothing vital was hit." Beckett noticed the doctor was motioning where the injuries had taken place in slashing gestures, much like the ones she used to describe how her homicide victims had died and the thought made her feel sick to her stomach. "He had two broken ribs and three cracked ones, those will be painful, so please try and stop him from moving too suddenly. He was very lucky, none pierced his lungs, one did graze along the top but didn't manage to enter, thank God, it would've killed him within three hours. He also has a Grade II concussion, we took CT scans and there are no signs that there will be any lasting brain damage, although he may have headaches, vomiting and dizziness for a few days. He has various bruises and cuts, all have been treated and cleaned but there's not much we can do about them."

The list was long, way too long. Esposito felt his head reeling with words like _flatline_ and _miracle_ and _removed_. Words that never should need to be used when describing his partner's condition. Ryan had flatlined. There was a few seconds when Ryan had been dead. Esposito's stomach rolled but he clamped down on it, forcing himself to ask the next important question: "Can we see him?"

* * *

The doctor led the way through the ICU to Ryan's room. "Due to his weak condition, only one visitor is allowed in the room at once. An infection now could prove fatal."

"Thank you Doctor..?"

"Doctor Ray Jentry. I figured you'd rather know about your partner than be introduced to me," he said, giving a small smile. Dr. Jentry was a tall man, in his fifties and bald as an egg. He had piles of laughter lines which was surprising on someone who must have delivered so much bad news and worked hard to save lives.

"Thank you Dr. Jentry," Beckett replied, trying to smile but failing. She couldn't smile until she saw Ryan awake and with his blue eyes twinkling.

There was no doubt over who would enter the room first. Esposito needed to see his partner, to make sure Ryan was fine, Ryan was alive, Ryan was still breathing. Beckett squeezed his shoulder and then moved down with Castle to sit with Martha on the chairs down the hallway, waiting for their turn.

Esposito then turned to Dr. Jentry and said "What are his chances?"

"60% chance of making it through the night, and depending on how that goes, around 70% of a full recovery."

Esposito sighed and stared at the door. Walking those final few meters was terrifying. Ryan had to make it, he had to be fine and he had to be alive. He would make it and soon they'd be back to fighting crime together.

_60% chance of living to see tomorrow._

He'd been to many hospitals in his time, visiting victims or witnesses or suspects. He'd also been to visit friends, relatives, friends' relatives. He'd checked himself in before, been dragged there against his will by paramedics, and a couple of times before, dragged Ryan home after he'd been injured on the job. Although never this bad. Never bad enough when death had been a very real possibility.

_...They remained on the hard chairs outside. He comforted her that Lees would solve the case because he wouldn't face the whole precinct's wrath if he let the inexcusable life forms who had tried to beat one of New York's finest (and a genuine nice guy) to death get away. No, Lees would try his bloody hardest to catch them because although he was rude and blunt and was about as sensitive as a bulldozer was in most social scenarios, he was a good cop and got results and that was why Gates had put him on the case..._

He'd never felt this nervous though, the cold damp feeling in his stomach spreading out and making his palms sticky as they pushed the door open. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the hospital bed and the small sallow figure lying in it, eyes closed and dead to the world. Espo sent a quick thanks upwards that this wasn't a permanent look, that those bright blue eyes would open soon because Ryan was fine, Ryan was alive, Ryan had a 60% chance of living.

And even though the figure in the bed was alive, the sight of the usually vibrant Irish detective did not make the terror and tension and gut-churning _fear_ to disappear because he looked terrible enough to believe that 60% wasn't high enough.

There were several machines hooked up to the comatose man, Esposito couldn't recognize them all but he did know the familiar and almost corny beep of a heart monitor and he knew the IV stand but the rest, he didn't know them and that caused him to feel helpless and useless and he should've been there, should've picked up the goddamn phone...

_60% chance of living._

Bruises littered Ryan's face. Bandages covered his head. A cast was on one arm, which was tucked outside the sheets. They'd said the arm was what had taken longest, it had taken several hours to try and fix the miniscule bones which had been crushed and crushed repeatedly while Ryan had screamed for help and no one had answered. Bandages peeked out of the shoulder of his hospital gown. Cuts littered his arms, several on his face and a long one along his jaw.

Bruises marked his throat. Fingers imprinted on the milky skin marking events in Technicolor and peach, like bloody footprints in the snow.

They'd strangled him. They'd strangled him as well as all the other things they'd done to him.

Esposito felt his own throat close up.

"Shit, Kev," Espo whispered as he dragged a chair placed underneath the window right next to Ryan's bed so he could guard his partner and have his back even though it was much, much too late for that now. "Only you could get into so much fucking trouble _grocery shopping._"

_...She was sitting at her desk, long after everyone else had gone home, with her hands under her chin and her gaze steely, hiding the emotions roiling underneath. Lees had reported back earlier, giving details on his investigation. There hadn't a lot; it had only been about 12 hours since she'd gotten a call. Today had not been productive. She had spoken in her strictest tones, the ones that inspired fear in everyone including Castle, and instructed everyone on Lees' team to work harder and had lurked around the precinct all day, getting regular updates from all involved. She'd called the hospital, every hour on the dot until 2 hours previously she'd been told Ryan had survived surgery. And that should have placated her maternal beast, the words 60% chance of living did not..._

And although Esposito usually prided himself on his masculinity (even though his hair still smelt of peaches slightly underneath the sharp sterile smell of hospital that clung to him), tears were sliding down his face now because this was _Ryan_, his partner and best friend and brother. Ryan was his partner, and rules about personal space and contact didn't apply to him as they did with other people. That was why Esposito soon found himself clutching Ryan's hand, gaining and giving comfort and trying so hard not to think of the 40% chance that some time before tomorrow morning, this hand could grow cold and that the steady heart monitor may just drift off and away.

* * *

**And now Ryan and Espo are back together, as promised Mrs. Ferb Fletcher-inator :)**

**I'm pretty sure most of the medical stuff in this is wildly inaccurate because I'm not a doctor. I did google as much as I could (and now my search history is similar to what Jack the Ripper's would've been) but some of it I just took my own creative liberty. I'm sorry if it's wrong, but please bear with me.**

**I know this chapter is short, but after this, they get bigger I promise.**

**Hope you enjoyed, and as always, tell me any and all your thoughts in the only way you can: reviews. And I apologize if that sounds a little creepy but it's late so night all! And see you next week! **


	6. Chapter 6

Esposito did not budge throughout the afternoon or night. He stayed, dozing slightly in his chair, clasping Ryan's hand as if that connection could tether his soul to his body. And maybe it worked, because Esposito soon found himself blinking blurrily in the middle of a flurry of activity as a young nurse swapped the IV bags and checked Ryan's vitals and pupils.

"He ok?" he asked gruffly, trying to stretch his back out in a casual my-back-isn't-screaming-bloody-murder-at-me kind of way.

The nurse, Peter, smiled and nodded. "Yes, he's doing fine. His blood pressure is a lot higher and much closer to normal and he's not picked up any infections. We can probably allow multiple visitors in as soon as he wakes up _which_ will be around lunch time." Esposito's mouth snapped closed as his next question was answered before it had even formed in the air.

Instead, he yawned and asked "Did you have to cut his hair?"

Peter blinked in surprise, a bit thrown by the curveball of a question. "We had to shave a few areas to check the cuts on his head. It's not too bad, he won't even notice."

"Oh trust me, he'll notice. Spends more time on it than most girls I've dated."

Peter grinned. "At least he won't be so concerned about his other injuries. In fact, just remind him that it may not grow back and he'll forget about them altogether!"

Esposito gave a wistful smile, looking at his unconscious partner. "Hear that, bro? Aren't you gonna wake up and whine about it?"

"You're friends are outside still, been here all night. I'll get Doctor Jentry to check on him in an hour and he can give you a more firm analysis on his current recovery progress, but I'd say it's almost certain that he will make it."

The tension seemed to seep out of Esposito. Having confirmation that Ryan would live from a medical professional instead of his own mind persuading him- that was the feeling of absolute relief that melted bones and cleared the brain's sinuses.

_...Her fingers flexing were over the simple numbers on her phone. Usually, when an officer was hurt, she let the partner or one of the team inform the family, but since she'd seen no members of Beckett's team and was positive they had not left the hospital since entering yesterday, the responsibility fell to her. She'd never previously talked to Ryan's parents as they weren't listed as his emergency contact -that was Esposito's spot- and usually Esposito himself informed them. Her fingers drummed in time with the ringing and then the phone was picked up and she heard Ryan's father introduce himself. Her voice was as calm and firm as always and she could hear his inhales and exhales grow ragged and then stop as she splayed the facts out and she knew some aspects of her job would never get easier..._

"Thanks," Espo said, voice rough as his eyes prickled. Even though every cell in his body screamed to stay with Ryan and protect him, he knew Castle and Beckett would want a chance to see the very alive, still breathing Irishman for themselves. With one final glance at Ryan, and a whispered "I'm sorry, Kev," because Esposito was still feeling guilty –he should've picked up, he should've picked up, why _didn't _he pick up- Espoito was exiting the bland hospital room which he never wanted to see again. He knew he'd be back in there in a couple of hours because Ryan would still be there.

* * *

Castle and Beckett were still fast asleep in the chairs, clutching at each other, like cold hands to a radiator. Martha wasn't there and Esposito had assumed she'd gone home. She knew Ryan, knew him well enough to know he was a thoroughly decent and polite gentleman but not well enough to know Ryan after a few drinks when his tie was loosened along with his mouth and his eyes were singing or after a hard case when his hair was mussed and his mouth was set in a painfully hard line. As long as only one visitor was allowed in his room at once, she would not try and remove his closer friends from his side.

Before Esposito could wake them, Beckett stirred under his staring, evidence of her police training shown in the way her eyes snapped open and zeroed in on Espo.

"How is he?" she asked, almost fearfully. Castle's head tilted from the disturbance.

"He's alive. He's alive," Esposito replied, and he happily would've repeated this over and over again because this was the first bit of good news he'd had since this nightmare began.

And Beckett breathed and oxygen flooded her vision, because she'd been holding her breath since she woke up and saw Espo standing before her looking tired and stressed and miserable and all she'd been able to think of was a flat beep and warm blue eyes growing colder and hospital beds being remade for the next patient.

Dismal thoughts for early morning, but the circumstances called for it.

"You can see him. It's still one visitor at a time and I thought you'd wanna..."

"Yeah, ok,"

There was silence as Beckett tried to distangle herself from Castle without waking him up. She knew from experience he was a deep sleeper; she'd had many mornings where only the smell of pancakes and syrup could force him back into the land of the living.

_...Across the city, a husband wrapped his arms around his wife as she sobbed into his shoulder and he into hers. Both knew how dangerous it was for their youngest child and only son to choose the life of a cop, but this had nothing to do with being a cop, there was no pride or reason in being mugged, it was just bad luck..._

"God, why was it _Ryan?_ Why out of all of us was it Ryan? He's... the goddamn nice guy. He didn't –doesn't- deserve this!" Esposito said suddenly, jaw working as he tried to keep his voice low and away from Castle's ears.

"I don't know. I don't know," said Beckett. She'd been thinking the same thing. Ryan was the perpetual rookie in the team, even though he'd been there longer than Castle had. She still viewed him as the energetic bright-eyed rookie he'd been when he'd joined. Even Castle viewed him as a rookie, but that was more to do with the fact he was a total fan of Castle, backing up his wildest theories and reading every book Castle had written.

Maybe because he still had the hint of the young and eager 20-something just-made-detective from narcotics about him, the naive trusting face that usually sported a grin, maybe that was why he'd been mugged. He didn't have that jaded, world-weary look that most cops, and most New Yorkers have. But then, it was streaks of bad events like this that had eventually rubbed at the eagerness on Ryan's face until it had faded slightly and encouraged the dry wit to grow.

There was silence as both stared down the hall at the room where their partner lay, unaware of their concern.

"He almost _died, _Beckett_._"

"I know."

And later, Esposito would swear to himself he didn't cry, and if he did it was only _one _tear and that was due to tiredness and stress and anyway, crying was acceptable because it was _Ryan _and rules didn't really apply to Ryan. And Beckett didn't need to say a thing, she knew Espo; she'd known him for years and that choked gasp had been all the signal she'd needed to hug him tightly and lend him support while Ryan couldn't.

And Castle wouldn't mention how the sound of sobbing was what woke him and he wouldn't mention the sight of his girlfriend crying with her arms around the ex-military cop in the middle of the hospital corridor and him hugging her back, both weeping for their partner who was fighting for his life just a few doors down. He wouldn't mention or mock either of them for the display of emotion because he knew when to be serious and instead he just stood up and silently joined them, feeling tears form because this family had survived so much already and with any luck, they'd survive this as well.

* * *

Esposito spent the afternoon wandering through the hospital, constantly walking with no aim or purpose other than kill time until he could politely kick out Beckett or Castle, whichever was in his chair by Ryan's bed. He'd originally been waiting right outside Ryan's room, and had joined the rotation of entering or exiting Ryan's room but he'd needed to _move _or he'd suffocate_._

_...She felt her heart pound deeper and heavier in her chest as a constant reminder of what was keeping her alive as she stared at her wounded detective and struggled with her emotions but oh god, the pure terror he must've felt. She'd been in many life-or-death situations, they all had but it never got easier. That paralysing fear and the dense thoughts of death that infiltrate your brain, it's always present in those moments where you realize you'll die. She knew what he'd felt and at the same time she had no idea because she'd never been beaten to within an inch of her life and she'd never wish that on anyone, especially not Ryan but here he was..._

Nurses and doctors alike ignored him. They were used to concerned relatives roaming the halls, trying to escape the emotionally-stifling atmosphere without actually leaving. Most were too busy to spare a smile or a sympathetic glance in his direction, and Esposito understood what it was like to be a witness or a person of interest: shuffled about from police officer, to detective, to sketch artist, back to detective and so on until you'd been sucked dry of information but no other detectives who weren't involved with the case noticed you at all. It was unnerving and yet it was exactly what he wanted.

He needed to walk out the tension and nerves which was gradually building up in his body and storing more energy in his muscles than a good ol' chase after a suspect. He needed to be alone and just mull over the events, break it down and think it through without having to express it all in words and grammatically correct sentences.

He had his cellphone with him and he was constantly checking it, because Castle had promised to send a text if any change –_any change at all, Castle, I need to know-_ occurred while he was away.

Ryan was supposed to wake up this afternoon, Doctor Jentry had confirmed it, and Esposito wanted to be there when it happened, and completely bury any doubts that still whispered through his bones that Ryan would die. But anything was better than the wait for those blue eyes to snap open, irritation shining in them as there nearly always was when Ryan woke. The usually-mellow Irish detective was not a morning person; he always needed a cup of coffee before a conversation was manageable. Espo knew this from many nights of unexpected crashing on the couch at one another's places. The alarm or the cell phone or the pillow to the face that woke him up got the worst glare imaginable and Esposito was generally thankful that Ryan locked his gun away at night.

_...The worst part was his stillness. He wasn't moving at all. And the silence. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest and the constant gurgling and thrumming of the various machines stacked around him disturbed the thickening air..._

As Esposito's feet carried him back in one particular direction again, because his worry was subconsciously gravitating him towards Ryan, he spotted Castle in the line at the hospital cafe, no doubt stocking up on more snacks. None of them had been away long enough to buy any substantial meals, although Martha had come back this morning, bringing several sandwiches and drinks and other essentials for them all, knowing they wouldn't have left.

"How is he?" Espo asked right next to Castle's shoulder. Castle visibly jumped and dropped several cans of Pringles. He had evidently zoned out while fulfilling the demanding task of choosing between Diet Coke and Coke Zero.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people in a hospital. Too many people with weak hearts or hip replacements toddling about," Castle muttered as he scooped up his Pringles, trying to provide comic relief although the stress lines forming on his forehead revealed his worry.

When Esposito didn't try to attempt to lighten the mood because the other third of their act was still fighting for his life, Castle answered the question that was hanging in between them with a sigh. "He's still not woken, no signs of waking. Kate's with him now."

_...She'd been there maybe an hour when it happened. There was a rustle of sheets and his nose crinked. And then his eyes opened, slowly and she darted forward immediately taking his hand. "Ryan? Hey, Ryan, it's Beckett, can you hear me?" He didn't seem aware of anything, not even the light or the sound of her voice. His normally clear blue eyes were cloudy and roaming the room slowly and randomly, following invisible patterns through the air that she couldn't. She continued speaking, comforting words because although all movements were slowed, there seemed to be an air of panic around the not-quite-conscious man and then his eyes shuddered closed and his arms stopped twitching and he was once again as still as a corpse..._

Grabbing a Diet Coke -because that was what Beckett liked and that was clearly what he was deliberating over- and handing it to Castle, he grabbed two regular Cokes and was about to hand them to Castle as well when he froze as he remembered he'd only need one. Slowly, and shakily he placed one bottle back and tried to ignore the now familiar tightening of his throat.

Castle observed all this and felt unsure as to what to do. Out of the two detectives, he was undeniably closer to Ryan and at times, felt slightly intimidated by Esposito. He definitely could see why suspects would confess when he saw either Beckett or Esposito in the interrogation room but with Ryan, those glimpses of true anger and righteousness were there but usually hidden underneath the dorkiness and awkwardness that Castle usually associated with the Irishman. He didn't always feel he understood the Ryan and Esposito partnership. It ran deep, deeper than his and Beckett's if he was being brutally honest, because these two spent hours every day with each other and then usually spent evenings together as well, and had done this for seven years. They were brothers in every sense of the word and brothers were a package, a two-for-one deal which right now was close to ending.

"I told him not to use that alley in the dark, I told him it wasn't safe, and I know he's used it _hundreds _of times because I've used it hundreds of times with him but it just takes one time right? But I told him not to use it when he was alone because I knew this would happen." Esposito was getting gradually louder, waving his hand around as if to blame the whole hospital. Other people were watching with sympathy, many probably fighting similar feelings of guilt for their loved ones.

Castle felt his throat close up, seeing the younger man get increasingly worked up as the guilt buried him.

"And he called me for help, Castle. He was _dying_ and I didn't answer."

_...She watched for several minutes, unmoving and unbreathing, because she could easily miss those blue eyes open but there was no change so she slipped her phone out of her pocket and called Castle because this was news he'd want to know..._

Castle's phone rang. Both men's eyes shot to his pocket and Esposito's rambling rant cut off abruptly. Before the first ring had ended, the phone was in Castle's hand and he was accepting the call. "Kate, what's happened?"

As Castle listened, his eyes remained on Esposito, who was watching him intensely and looking for any clues on Ryan's wellbeing.

"We'll head over there now. You like Diet Coke right?"

Esposito managed to roll his eyes as Castle hurriedly agreed that he'd known that all along and then hung up the phone. "He woke up, but he wasn't coherent, couldn't even tell where he was. Doctor Jentry said that was normal, due to the concussion and heavy anaesthetics and painkillers he's on. He says he'll gradually become more lucid during the next few days until he's back to being our talkative little leprechaun." But even as Castle said those words, he wondered if Ryan would recover completely from this, psychologically speaking.

Paying for the drinks and Pringles, both men left the cafe and headed back towards the familiar part of the hospital and headed towards the corridor which they had both paced hundreds of times in the last twenty four hours, always faltering outside one particular door.

* * *

**I know this is a bit late, but as the story builds up, it's harder to keep track of what I've mentioned and what I haven't. I've never had to organize a timeline before in a story, because I've never tried to write a beast like this one (I love this beast though, I am thoroughly enjoying writing this beast) so I literally had to take a day just to write out the timeline. That was fun. **

**Next chapter, there's a whole big chunk of Castle and Ryan, because I love them together and judging by your reviews (which I cherish and cry over multiple times a day), you like it too. **

**Tell me what you guys think :) Seriously, reviews give me a natural high. Complete highlight of my day. Until Saturday!**


	7. Chapter 7

Esposito was sitting in his chair again. Ryan was fast asleep, or unconscious. Probably unconscious due to the strong mix of drugs being pumped directly into his bloodstream. Esposito kept checking his partner's breathing and listening to the steady beeps of the heart monitor because nobody was _that still_ and _that silent_ when they slept and an irrational fear kept climbing his spine that Ryan was dead. He had a feeling that fear wouldn't go away for a while.

_...He rubbed the palm of his hands over his eyes because damnit he was tired. He'd barely slept the night before, his mind had instead zipped between what might happen to Ryan and what had already happened until it had zipped into the darker parts of his mind where optimism was absent and where he drew inspiration to write about murders. Ever since Ryan had gotten hurt, Castle had been like a toy with dying batteries._ _He'd tried to keep up the care-free facade, tried to act normal for the sake of sanity but the worry had drained him..._

As soon as he and Castle had arrived outside the room, Beckett had left, knowing Espo needed time with his partner, needed to see his eyes open for himself because otherwise that irrational fear wouldn't leave and the constant stress and fear it was causing him would probably lead him to have a panic attack right there in the hallway.

It had been over two hours now, since Beckett had called Castle, and there had been no change at all. Esposito had tried talking to his partner, reminding him of the good times they'd had (the four of them had had an impromptu basketball match once, Mom and Dad vs. Ryan & Espo, after a case had brought the topic up, and although Castle had been the best because he was so damn tall, the little Irish detective hadn't been too bad and had definitely been the fastest of them all and Espo remembered the silly victory dance he'd done whenever he or Espo had thrown the ball through the hoop. It had eventually caught on until all four would do it whenever _anyone_ scored). Eventually he'd fallen into silence and was just staring at the pale face because Ryan always woke up if someone was staring at him while asleep.

He was beginning to zone out again, and revisit the past, when Ryan's eyes opened woozily before sliding shut again.

_...Everything was hurting, but it wasn't near him. The pain was distant and he felt a bit puffy and severely confused over this whole sensation. He decided to try and open his eyes because then he could see why he felt more like a Danish pastry than a human being but oh god this seemed like a monumental effort because he didn't quite have control of his body and he seemed to be slightly below his body, but eventually they slid open and promptly shut again because it was so bright out there compared to the darkness in his head... _

The eyes popped open again, still unclear but very much alive.

Esposito wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the dazed look, dilated pupils and the non-recognition wasn't it. Ryan didn't try and speak, for once in his life. It was obvious he wasn't coherent enough to understand his surroundings or remember what had happened. He probably wasn't even fully conscious. A slight moan escaped him, a raspy dry one, as the light hit his eyes and he frowned, eyes sluggishly moving and constricting slowly.

_...It was too bright to make out surroundings, everything was blurry and just distant and he couldn't figure out why, this puzzle was too exhausting to solve and he felt like he was swimming through this brightness because everything was moving too slowly for it to be normal..._

Esposito leaned forwards, worry creasing his features."Kev? Kev, it's Javi. You with me, bro?"

_...Nothing was making sense and it was too bright and it didn't feel important and he had no energy for this eye-opening thing so he allowed his eyes to clamp shut again and retreated back into unconsciousness because that was familiar and safe..._

There was no response, no awareness that he'd heard. Only seconds after the blue eyes opened wide, the eyelids were slipping closed again and Ryan was dreaming once again, safe once again in the blackness, and Esposito leaned back in his chair, desperation cured and yet still raging on.

He'd seen many people in hospital but never before had he felt that frenzied state of fear flood through him and leave him exhausted and clinging to the debris left behind. He'd never before waited at a hospital bed for hours until he had to leave just to get fresh air and a gasp of life outside those four walls. He'd never expected to be here for Ryan though, because he was supposed to have Ryan's back and Ryan wasn't supposed to get hurt, wasn't supposed to be left on the ground to die among garbage...

He stopped that train of thought before he left the hospital completely and tracked down the thugs who had done this to Ryan. Of course he'd do that anyway, but only when Ryan was better.

A knock on the door, and Castle's head poked through. "Any change?"

"He woke up, about five minutes ago but like Beckett said, he had no idea what was going on," Espo said, eyes still on his partner.

"Not a change from usual then," Castle smirked.

Esposito snorted and then turned back to Castle. "I'm gonna go get some sandwiches. Take care of him?"

Castle nodded, holding up a sheaf of papers and said "Going to read some Nikki Heat to him. That'll wake him up."

"Hmm, funny. Usually sends everyone else to sleep," Espo sniggered as he slipped out the door before Castle could come up with a defence.

Castle was left with a thousand smartass replies but no one to share them with except the comatose man lying in the hospital bed. "So many wasted opportunities," he muttered as he got comfortable in the unofficial Ryan-watching chair, still warm from its previous occupant. In fact, the chair hadn't grown cold since Doctor Jentry had shown them to the room. The thought of leaving their partner to wake up alone after he'd almost died alone haunted them all and all were determined that it did not happen.

Although Castle never expressed it, he did care for the double act that was Ryan and Esposito, almost considering them a mix between sons and younger brothers because he didn't have either and desperately wanted both.

Especially Ryan. Castle had a soft spot for the Irishman because he indulged Castle and listened to his all but his craziest theories and worked out the flaws until it sounded plausible. Both men had a secret loving for sci-fi and would often have whole evenings dedicated to watching Star Wars or Firefly or any series they could find as their customary partners did not appreciate the beauty set before them. Espo would watch it if Ryan begged hard enough, but he'd complain or make fun of it or flick popcorn at his partner until they watched a different movie. And Beckett downright refused to, although Castle had got her to watch Nebula 9 but had regretted it because the looks she gave Captain Max left a sour taste in his throat.

Ryan was the younger brother he'd never had, the youngest child who adored his father, the one Castle felt just as protective over as Kate because he had an innocence around him, a belief that right would overpower wrong, evidence of his Catholic school days and Castle felt it was his job to shield that.

And now, here he was lying in a hospital bed. Castle had seen him earlier, seen him this morning after the group-bonding-crying session in the hall. When Doctor Jentry had first led them through the maze of corridors that this hospital was made up of, all his instincts had tried to throw his body through the door and check on Ryan. But he'd known Espo had needed to see him the most and he'd held Kate through the night as she'd panicked and debated over whether Ryan was ok.

Yes, Castle had seen Ryan earlier but the sight of the usually animated detective laying so still and _un-Ryan-like -_because Ryan was never still, he was constantly moving and bouncing from point to point like a fucking Jack-in-the-box - caused his breath to flatten and a frown to slither down his face slumping his brows and crinkling his forehead. Ryan was as pale as paper with rainbow chalk smudges scribbled across it as the bruises had had enough time to blossom now.

Castle carefully stroked what little of Ryan's hair was sticking out from the bandages, feeling the soft, gel-less strands slip through his fingers and indulging his paternal side. Without the gel, Ryan's hair was very long and was covering his eyes and Castle soon found himself trying to push it back because Ryan would hate it on his face. Hence the vast amounts of gel.

"Hey," he said lamely. "Thought I'd read you the draft of my next Nikki Heat book, 'cause I hink we all know you have a whole shelf dedicated to my books right by your bed. Well, Espo told me anyway although why he was in your bedroom is another mystery in itself."

Castle optimistically waited for the usual quick-witted (although slightly red) reply from the Irish detective but no answer came forth.

"You're losing your touch, my friend. I think this is the longest I've gone without hearing a word from you. It's disturbing and no one likes the silence so feel free to wake up any time now."

Another silence filled with heart monitors and the steady hum of the air conditioning. A nurses heels clicked down the hall.

"I'll take your silence to be you eagerly anticipating my writing," Castle said, ruffling Ryan's hair and mentally reminding himself that Ryan was not his son and would kill him if he knew he'd done that.

Castle cleared his throat -dramatically of course because he was Castle- and began reading, doing as good a job as when he was paid to read extracts at bookstores or to Alexis when she was younger, weaving tension in and throwing accents about easily. Every now and again, he' pause and look up, hoping Ryan's blue eyes would be fixed on him attentively but Ryan never moved except once when his eyebrow twitched. Castle counted that as a minor victory.

When Beckett peeked in three hours later, Castle had dozed off, head leaning against the wall and the manuscript lying across his chest, one arm cradling that and the other still reaching for Ryan's hair. She smiled at the sight.

She was about to close the door when she spotted the manuscript. Was that...? It couldn't be... The words _Raging Heat Draft 3 _emblazoned on the front seemed to suggest it was and it could be. He hadn't even shown it to her, insisting it was top secret and now he was reading it to Ryan!

She quietly closed the door and retreated down the hall, smiling softly and clutching the manuscript to her chest.

* * *

_...Awareness struck again. He felt himself rising back up to conscious, but this time when his eyes opened slowly, this place felt less bright. It still took a while for the blurry masses ahead to be identified by his brain as shapes and eventually objects and he was still not-quite-in-his-body but this experience was much more enjoyable. He lay there for a minute, trying to work out what the hell was going on and where he was when he remembered the pain. It still felt rather hidden so he dismissed it and instead focussed on the sensation of something heavy pressing on his head. Slowly, his eyes slid to the right and he identified an arm which was attached to... was that Castle? It was Castle, and judging by the position of his arm, he eventually deduced that the weight was in fact Castle's hand in his hair. Ok, time to focus energy into actual speech..._

A few hours into his impromptu nap, Castle awoke with a start to see hazy blue eyes glaring at him. "Gerroff m'hair," Ryan slurred, trying to dislodge Castle's hand.

Castle immediately jumped up, hand flying off as he realized _Ryan was awake_ and _Ryan was speaking _and even more startling, _Ryan was making sense._

"Ryan? Oh god, are you ok? In any pain? What do you remember?"

"Dn'touch m'hair. Ruin't," his eyes flickered again and began to slide closed, content that his message had been passed along.

"No, Ryan wait!" Castle panicked, trying to keep the detective awake without resorting to slapping him.

"Wha'?" One blue eye glared at him.

"Do you know where you are?" Castle asked, trying to gauge how much Ryan was actually processing here.

The blue eye slowly moved across the room. "Think s'a hosp'tl," and a vaguely proud look drifted across Ryan's face because damn, he was a good detective and then the blue eye slipped closed and a few indistinguishable murmurs popped out and then Ryan was unconscious again.

_...He felt himself drift away again, but this time it wasn't as far. He was still aware of himself and in fact this was more sleeping than being unconscious. This blackness was more alive and pensive than the deadness that unconsciousness is made up of..._

Castle beamed at the good news and hurried to leave when he remembered that his next New York Times Bestseller was here.

Except it wasn't.

Shit.

* * *

Castle stormed outside, half-bouncing with excitement and eyes darting frantically examining all the nurses as though he'd uncovered a conspiracy. And with that imagination, you never knew.

"Kate. Two things. Good or bad?"

Kate looked up from her hurriedly started conversation with Espo, trying to hide the fact that she was in possession of the sacred Third Draft of Raging Heat.

"Bad," Espo stated immediately, looking alarmed because oh god, Ryan couldn't be hurt now, Doctor Jentry had said he was through the worst and he was improving so what-

"I think the nurses stole my Nikki Heat draft," Castle said, half-joking and half completely serious because it _had _gone missing and he _was _a famous, incredibly talented and ruggedly handsome writer.

Beckett tried to hide her smirk and definitely did not look at her coat which was draped on the next seat over.

Esposito relaxed because Ryan was okay but not okay enough that he could worry about something else.

"And the good news?"

"Ryan woke up again. And he spoke, we had a proper conversation!"

Both Beckett and Espo jumped up, demanding more information and Castle considered holding out on them for a while, teasing them with tidbits but then he saw the desperate look in Espo's eyes and he told them everything, missing nothing out.

Espo snorted when Castle mentioned Ryan's first words and he muttered "of course," and Beckett looked completely relieved that Ryan didn't appear to have any sort of brain injury (or at least not yet). The scans had shown no signs and Doctor Jentry had repeated several times that he'd suffered no ill effects from having his head smeared against a brick wall with fists, but she'd still worried. She still remembered that blank stare, the lack of recognition and even if that was apparently a normal process in recovering, she'd panicked.

"He's gonna be okay. He's _gonna be okay!_" Castle couldn't help repeating himself because damn, for the first time he actually believed it. A grin spread across his face and quickly spread to Beckett and Esposito's faces because this was the first proper sign that Ryan was recovering. Ryan was going to be okay.

"Seriously though, I need to find that draft," Castle said, and his features contorted into a mix between anxious and ecstatic. Since Ryan was recovering well and they all deserved to be stress-free because these past two days had been absolute hell on all of them, Beckett moved her coat and handed Castle his draft and said "Just wanted to make sure it didn't get into the wrong hands."

Castle took it, eyes slightly narrowed because this one was meant to be a surprise goddamnit, but before he could say anything, Doctor Jentry arrived.

"My nurses tell me that Detective Ryan woke up and had a rather stimulating conversation with Mr Castle!" he said, beaming at them all. "He's recovering very nicely, if he continues this way he should be able to be discharged in roughly a week, although he won't be allowed back into the field for several months and physiotherapy will be needed." They all deflated a bit there. It was a very real reminder that although Ryan was making progress, he still had a long way to go. "However, on a brighter note, I think his chances of contracting an infection have decreased enough that he can have multiple people in his room now."

Castle's face looked like it was Christmas and Esposito's eyes closed briefly as he thanked the Lord. "Thank you so much, Doctor,"

"It's why I'm here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go check on my other patients." And with that he was gone with a smile and a nod.

Castle, Beckett and Esposito immediately headed towards Ryan's room as one, leaving the corridor remarkably empty.

* * *

**And there's chapter 7 for you guys :) these chapters are getting longer every week! This one and the last one were both around 3000 words each!**

**There's a big chunk of Castle in here because I absolutely ADORE his and Ryan's relationship, much like I adore Ryan and Espo's relationship, and Beckett and Castle's, and the show in general... **

**Please tell me if there's anything wrong with this chapter, I loaded it up on here and weird things happened with the text positioning. I panicked, because generally I do not understand technology BUT I think I got it sorted. ****Thanks once again for the reviews, I love every single one of you! (If you wanna join in the love, then feel free to drop a review. Although I love everyone who's read this story, but yes please review anyway for some extra love)**

**I shall see you all again next Saturday, maybe Sunday. And by then, us in the Northern Hemisphere will officially be in spring! Happy days :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Esposito had not left the hospital since he had arrived there frantically trying to claw his way to his partner.

Hell, since Doctor Jentry had announced they could all be in Ryan's room at once a couple days ago, he'd barely left Ryan's side.

Both Castle and Beckett had at least left for a few hours to pick up fresh clothes and have a proper shower (the showers here were strange and Castle was convinced they were actually showering in a decontamination shower) and a warm meal, but not Esposito. Beckett had tried to convince him he should, at least for a few hours since the likelihood of Ryan dying spontaneously was pretty low. His biggest danger was an infection, and that took time to build up.

Esposito had stubbornly refused. His partner was hurt and he wouldn't leave him. He still felt immense guilt that he hadn't been there to save his partner and that guilt had turned into fuel for his over-protective mode.

Gates had already given them all a week off, knowing full well that any work done while Ryan was sick would not be unproductive and having them in the precinct before the case had made good headway would be unproductive for everyone because Beckett would hunt down those lowlife thugs herself, Esposito at her side. It had been five days, and Esposito had already requested taking another week off using his holiday time.

Even Ryan himself had tried to persuade him that it was okay, although his argument had not been very convincing as he'd been slurring his words and had narrowly missed puking on Esposito and his double before mumbling that he hated the food here and proceeding to plan on roping the nurses into starting a mutiny against the staff. No one had been able to convince him that the nurses were part of the staff and therefore this mutiny was unlikely to succeed.

_...She looked up sharply because Lees had entered her office again. "Please tell me you have something," she said in a tone that could almost be considered begging, except she'd said it and she did not beg. Lees looked uncomfortable. "We've got prints and DNA but none that matches anybody in the system. No witnesses. CCTV footage shows nothing unusual. There's no leads to go on." She looked away, furious because what was the point in the law if it could not protect their own? "Keep going, get Detective Ryan's statement later on today, he should be able to give it now. We're going to catch those bastards. No one does that to my people and gets away."..._

He was more coherent now and able to hold a fairly stable conversation but make it too long and the mix of tiredness, drugs and the remainders of a concussion caused his conversational skills to spiral downwards and lead to interesting talks, and sad smiles on everyone's faces as they watched Ryan, the usually smart and knowledgeable detective full of random facts and sarcastic wisdom, bumble and stumble through increasingly irrelevant –not to mention illogical- thought processes.

Of course it was amusing (Ryan had just yesterday blearily suggested several plot points that were desperately needed in Castle's next book such as a talking guinea pig and a magic umbrella like Mary Poppins had. He'd insisted Castle write them all down and then launched into a completely new series idea revolving around a mash-up between Star Wars, the Avengers and a smidgeon of Sherlock, explaining away any copyright problems with a flick of his hand and a "you're friends with the mayor") but it was also heart-rending. Because it was clear that even with the cocktail of drugs in his bloodstream, he was still in pain.

Like right now. Castle had bought a pack of cards from a gas station and they were attempting to play Black Jack, because the chance of further injuries was minimal (Snap had been a bad idea, in hindsight). It was also pretty easy and Ryan was still pretty out of it. They were using the hospital bed –and consequently Ryan's body – as the table. Every time Ryan would reach for his cards, he'd try and hide a wince as the stitches were pulled in his shoulder and stomach and his broken ribs were jostled. Everyone still noticed because everyone was looking for these things but no one said anything, because Ryan had made it abundantly clear that he did not appreciate all the fussing after he realized that three people were catering to his every wish.

"I'm going t'sit up," Ryan said, well aware of the slurring thank you very much. He expected arguing but goddamnit it, they weren't trying to play cards while facing the ceiling. Eye contact was made and silent questions of _Is this a good idea?_ Were exchanged but Ryan was too drugged up to even notice. He took their silence for agreement and carefully slid his hands down to the mattress, getting ready to use the muscles he had that hadn't been ripped off bone or shredded with a knife.

"Hey, Ryan let us help-"

Ok, simple, just push down and he'd go up. Science right? No, wait that was the general term, it was physics wasn't it? Physics, he knew Physics. Or did it count as Biology, because it was the body?

"It's Physics, but Biology says don't fucking move when injured-"

Oh shit, why did drugs always make him spread his mind-words? Whatever, time to get vertical, or maybe just a right angle, because vertical was like standing, and that definitely sounded hard right about now.

"Just lay back down-"

Shit, this was a bad idea. Pain lanced through his chest and _Jesus Christ it felt like a heart attack _but really it was just bones sliding and grinding like the powder in an Etch-a-Sketch. His arms trembled. "Fuck," he breathed out, slowly. A darkened disco danced behind his eyes for his efforts and Ryan leaned back on the bed, trying to suck in air as his vision skydived.

Hands grabbed him and carefully pushed him down and as his vision cleared he found himself staring wide-eyed at the glower of his partner. "You idiot, are you trying to live up to Irish stereotypes?"

And while usually, Ryan could make that leap, he could get that joke definitely, right now he was tired and full of drugs and his eyes were struggling to focus and that joke was beyond him. His forehead crinkled and he said "Potatoes?"

Esposito snorted and leaned back. "You're goddamn stubborn."

The cards had been scattered everywhere after his ill-fated attempt of sitting up and Ryan's cognitive abilities had decreased further so now he lay under a conversation, trying to join in when he could understand it.

Castle noticed the Irish detective was struggling to enter the discussion over getting a police dog (a purposefully chosen light-hearted topic to chase that stress away) so he said "What do you think, Ryan? Boy or girl puppy?"

"We're not getting one, Castle. Right, Ryan?" Beckett said, waiting for her junior partner to leap to her defence.

"Need a p'lice giraffe. Tha' way we c'n see ov'r people at New Year S'eve," Ryan said and looked at Castle, trying to convey his enthusiasm.

"You're just saying that because you'll be on poop duty," Castle teased. He'd recognized the slow blinks which meant Ryan was close to passing out from the drugs and exhaustion again.

"Rock, p'per , scissors?" he asked as he struggled to raise his stabbed arm, remembering and then going for his broken arm before realizing the only move he could do with that was paper.

"Bro, stop trying to hurt yourself," said Espo, leaning forward to check for signs of damage and then remembering the threat that Ryan had told him last time he'd been too mothering, which ironically involved feminine scented shampoo.

"M'not. C'stle tricked me."

And with that, Ryan fell asleep.

* * *

Beckett had stepped out to get more coffee because the whole team was powered by coffee and even Ryan, after waking up from his impromptu nap, had expressed a desire for a hot cuppa. Everyone had taken that as a sign for progress because the youngest detective had had next to no appetite since arriving at the hospital. Which was understandable considering the food.

And that was why she'd immediately leapt at the chance of getting him some. She also figured she could use the time to update Lanie on Ryan's progress. The ME was extremely worried over Ryan; she'd gotten close to him when she'd dated Espo. She'd visited on numerous occasions however she hadn't been able to completely abandon her work and could only visit after shift and with her unpredictable hours, her visits often occurred when Ryan was sleeping.

As the door closed behind her she saw a familiar figure striding down the corridor.

Shit.

It was lees. Clearly here to take Ryan's statement because he was not the type of man to waste time consoling victims.

Why was this bastard doing it and not one of his team? There was a reason why the whole of the 12th actively worked to keep Lees away from victims and relatives. And Beckett didn't want Ryan to experience that reason firsthand especially when he was in pain and drugged up to the point where emotion were filling his throat and scratching their escape.

And no one had mentioned the alleyway. Ryan hadn't offered a word about it after he confirmed that he remembered why he was here with a haunted look in his eyes.

This was not going to end well.

"Afternoon, Beckett. How's the leprechaun doing?"

"_Detective Ryan-" _emphasis on each letter of each word as well as on the accompanying glare "- is awake. But he's still recovering so maybe you should get his statement later."

Lees, oblivious to the thinly-veiled command, said "Sorry Becks, can't do that. Gotta get it while his memory still works. I figured a guy like him will get PTSD or some other shit eh? Guy'sa fucking d-"

Beckett stepped up close right in front of Lee's steamy face.

His words spluttered out and he imitated a car stalling.

"I think you forgot that that's my partner in there and a valued detective of the New York City Police Force. He's solved hundreds of cases and put away an even higher number of criminals. He's worked undercover for over a year and went back in even if it almost cost him his life. He's one of my best friends, so don't you dare talk about him like that to my face, or anywhere else. You got that?"

"Loud and clear,"

"So why did they send you?"

"Figured a case like this is too important to screw up, y'know? Those other sods, they don't always know what they're doing. And we don't want cop-haters to escape justice."

Beckett knew Lees was a dick who respected very few (those being Gates, Castle for some absurd reason -only his writing and not his detective skills- and God) but he was still a dedicated policeman and was passionate over the war against crime. That was evident from his high solved cases rate.

She still didn't want him anywhere near Ryan.

"Anyway, let's get this over with." A flash of regret seemed to cross Lees' face as if he truly regretted stirring Ryan's memories and dissecting the worst ones into tiny pieces with a rusty fork.

As the door opened, Castle grinned and said "Quickest coffee run yet by two whole minutes- ah." The exclamation being due to him turning around and seeing Lees stood in the doorway, Beckett behind him empty-handed. "Well of course if you don't bring coffee back you'll be faster but frankly, that doesn't count."

Esposito's head shot up and his nostrils flared with anger. Castle had not met Lees at the crime scene but seeing Esposito's reaction and Beckett's complaints towards Lees earlier, he put two and two together fairly easily.

Ryan had more trouble. He looked very confused, the drugs making him too woozy to connect the dots here.

"I'm here to take Ryan's statement," Lees said after the silence was stretched taut between the five of them. Ryan's face hardened and his eyes darted frantically to Espo for help. "You can wait outside if-"

"Out of the question," Espo said immediately, glare in place and subconsciously curling around his partner who looked terrified at the idea of discussing _that_.

Lees puffed himself up. "You don't have a choice. This is a legal procedure which you know must occur when the victim," –everyone flinched- "is alone and unable to be biased in his review of events. So unless you want the tyrants to roam free and attack more unsuspecting cops because we couldn't get a conviction due to _your ego_, then feel free to stay here."

Esposito almost exploded but remained seated as Castle looked equal parts repulsed by Lees and worried about Esposito's future actions and the consequences of being kicked out of a hospital for fighting. Finally Espo stood up and slinked out of the room. "I'll be back in an hour, whether you're done or not. And if you insinuate _anything_, I will rip off your balls."

Castle pointed at Espo's retreating back stabbing a "What he said," at Lees, because really, Esposito phrased it perfectly. Beckett followed them both, smiling a comforting smile at Ryan, although really her insides were trying to churn themselves to butter because this was _all too soon. _

Lees turned to Ryan, seeming a bit blown away by the encounter and his eyes widened as he took in the formidable army of flowers and balloons and get-well-soon cards, because Ryan was a nice guy who couldn't help but accumulate friends throughout the 12th, and in his non-work life as well. The collection of presents was probably just as intimidating as Esposito had been.

He took out a small tape recorder. "You ready?"

Ryan nodded, feeling like a magnet was gravitating all his insides to one point right in the center.

"This is Detective Eric Lees, badge number 39528 interviewing victim Detective Kevin Ryan, badge number 42334 on the Robbery and Assault that took place on the night of the 23rd of October 2013."

Ryan felt his breathing speed up because oh _god _this made it real, it was official and he'd have to talk about it.

"Talk me through what happened on the night of the 23rd of October 2013," Lees stated in a voice so blasé that Siri could sound more sympathetic to Ryan's plight, or the voice from his car's GPS.

Ryan tried not to let it show that he was now desperately trying to remember how to suck in air and fucking _breathe _because this topic had been oh-so-carefully avoided and oh god he really did not want to discuss it because he did not want to go back _there_, even just mentally.

"I went out to get groceries. There's this shortcut I always use, cuts off about a block or two and I'd used it coming down so I didn't think anything of it when I was walking back that way." Words were streaming from his mouth, cracked and dry but they were coming. "I had two bags, I don't remember what I bought, just stuff I thought I'd need later on because I was meant to be hosting Madden night and takeaway is getting old." Ryan knew he was tripping over his words and there were random stutters stabbing at his speech, and he knew he was rambling but he _couldn't stop_. "I didn't see them, I just- was slammed into the wall and they wanted my money but my badge was there and one said something-"

Lees eyes, which had previously been roaming the room, snapped onto his. "Can you remember what this one said?"

"God, I don't- something, something about me being a cop and him and his friends not liking cops and that I'd pay for the shit we'd caused. You pigs, that's how he described us."

"Can you describe them to me? How many were there?"

"I didn't see them! It was dark and late and my face was in the wall and I could never get a good look. I- There were lots of them, maybe five? One guy, the leas guy, his breath was minty. I think he was chewing gum. They were so close, breathing on me and whispering in my ear what they'd like to do to me. I thought I was going to die."

Lees asked another question but the room was stretching into a tunnel and Ryan felt sick as the smell of the alleyway filled the room: that sour tang of vomit which sits on your tongue and the sharp staccato peak of piss that invades your nostrils. And then their breath, a horrific mix of mint and smoke promising things he didn't want and now food was coming up and he vomited what was currently in his stomach which was unsurprisingly empty because dear god this hospital food was grim.

Lees swore and turned off the tape recorder but Ryan didn't even notice. He was back in that alleyway, shrinking smaller for the next punch and hearing the hate-filled voices above his head.

_...He leapt up from his chair and tried to calm Ryan, hold him still but fuck, the man was crazy. He was shaking and there was bile and acid down the front of his hospital gown and he was going to get his balls ripped off, he just knew it. Was Ryan breathing? Oh god, he didn't do this comforting shit and he leapt back as Ryan gagged again, not wanting to ruin his suit. Grabbing his tape recorder, he stuck his head out the door and yelled for help because this guy needed his partner, not him..._

His memories were cycling through one another, switching from leering faces to the pain that always accompanied an insult.

_..."What the hell did you do to him?" he yelled, it had barely been twenty minutes and his partner was a mess. He was trying to comfort him but how do you comfort someone when their mind is not in the same timezone as you? He knew the feeling, he'd gone through PTSD and he knew the techniques to get them back to the present. He knew how to deal with this he wouldn't be helpless, not this time..._

A voice cut into the panicked vortex he was stuck in, the images and smells and voices were too much but he could hear Esposito yelling over it all, telling him to take slow, deep breathes. He tried, he did but time was skewed and then Espo was leaning over him in a half-hug and they were breathing in time and he could hear Esposito asking him questions calmly about the hospital room and not _that place_. Deep breathes. Deep breathes. His surroundings returned and the memories faded back into his subconscious and Ryan took a deep breath and relaxed.

"You okay, bro?" Espo asked and Ryan nodded, still concentrated on breathing and his surroundings because this was what was real.

Espo nodded and Ryan's eyes flitted over Castle and Beckett, embarrassed over his moment of weakness that they'd seen.

"What happened?" asked Castle, trying to go for neutral but there was undertones of worry.

Ryan decided to try words out, since he'd mastered breathing. "Yeah, sorry. Just haven't really thought about it too much."

"Did you push him?" Beckett asked Lees.

"No! I followed procedure! I'm not out to get you! If Gates even suspected I was, she'd chop my balls off and make them into one of those fuzzy dice you hang on a mirror in the car. You know the ones?"

Espo glared, still half-on Ryan.

"Apparently not."

"Not a word of this, Lees. I think you should get his statement later, when he's more recovered and had a Psych Eval."

"No, no I don't need-" Ryan's words tried up once four pointed glares and two raised eyebrows were directed towards him.

"Right, I'll be off then. Um, you get better?" The usually-caring statement was definitely more an uncertain question. And with that, Lees left and Espo released Ryan and straightened up before sitting in his chair.

"Game of Black Jack, anyone?"

* * *

**I know this is so unbelievably late you're all probably like "what is this story even about?" and I'M SO SORRY, life got in the way BUT don't worry that's done, I'm back. On the plus side, it is the longest chapter yet :D In fact, every chapter is getting longer, I'll have you know. **

**I've said I'm a slow writer several times, and I have only written half of chapter 9 but I promise that will be up in two weeks. Swear on the gorgeous blue eyes of Kevin Ryan. **

**I did look up police procedure but most of it is my own creative liberties there, so I apologize if it's horribly inaccurate. I hope you enjoyed it :) Tell me if you did because REVIEWS are what INSPIRE me to write FASTER. And honestly, they take like a minute. Thank you all so much for all the reviews you've already written. I genuinely love you all. **

**See ya within two weeks :D**


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